Mirror, Mirror
by Emrisah
Summary: When Garcia comes in to work acting very un-Garcia like, the team is first puzzled and then worried. Add a trail of bodies, copious amounts of chocolate and the brothers Winchester, and things are bound to get even more interesting.
1. Prologue

So, this is my first foray into any fanfiction other than HP, and I'm slightly nervous. This idea randomly popped into my head one day when I was thinking about Garcia and how much with the awesome she is. Then I started wondering what would happen not only to her, but to the team, if she suddenly became this weird, conventional person. And of course you can't have anything supernatural without involving the boys. Naturally. So they get to join in the hijinks as well. This is based inbetween episodes of the fourth seasons of both shows. I've twisted some details to make things work, so for all you Charmed purists out there, apologies, but *blows raspberry* it's my fic so ya boo sucks to you.

_Mirror, Mirror._

_Prologue_

_This body was strange. She had thought that it would be an interesting experiment to try being in a male's body, but clearly she was not cut out for this sort of thing. For one, having never had to deal with anatomy of any kind before this all started, having to deal with what men had was . . . something she would really prefer not to do on a daily basis. And so with difficulty she curbed her instincts, hiding away, using only the host's eyes to see out into the world, looking for a better, _female_ host._

_While the need to be free was literally singeing her being, she knew that a proper host was needed. She couldn't survive without one. And she didn't want to keep hopping from body to body. Someone was bound to notice the people dropping like the proverbial flies all over the place, if they hadn't already. She needed to find a host, one that she could stay in and not have to jump out of in a matter of days. Life was within her grasp, and she could be controlled for a time, but the need to be free was getting stronger with each passing day._

_She came to a decision. The next half decent female this male encountered would simply have to do. She couldn't wait any longer! She wanted to feel soft skin again, be her own person again, have a life again!_

_'Delivery!'_

_Her host was a delivery boy. At the time, she had had no real concept of what that was, but after two days of stagnating in this body, she was more than ready to leave it and its menial business behind. All his other deliveries had been to people she had been unwilling at the time to shift to. Now she knew that even if this one was just as bad, she'd be leaving. And that time couldn't come soon enough._

_'Oh thank you, you're a life saver! A man who brings chocolate on time is worth his weight in, well, chocolate.'_

_Aaah, this was much better than the last few female, and full of life and vigour. Which could be bad, all things considered, but it was the curse that went with what she wanted. She wanted to have a life, and to do so she had to choose someone who was full of life themselves. However, that meant that their souls were strong, and much more likely to fight, and fight hard, than someone of an older age who was looking forward and seeing only the golden light shining from above. Or the black shadows creeping from down below, but enough talk about that. Homesickness never helped anyone. Because no matter how much she wanted to live, and get away, noone ever forgets home._

_No matter how cloying, repressive or boring it was._

_And now was not the time to start weeping._

_' . . . and keep the change. Really. For delivering this late, you deserve it. Thanks! See ya!'_

_No no no! The door was closing. She had to work fast. Quick as thought, she took over her host, and a strong palm slapped against the door to prevent it from closing. The young woman was rather shocked at this sudden behaviour, and it showed on her expressively beautiful (yes!) face._

_'Hey, what -'_

_Poor thing. Didn't even have time to react._

_Just before she left her male host, she squeezed tight around his heart, stopping all those necessary things that were keeping him, well, alive. And then she was out. Silvery light flowed like mist out of the young man's mouth, coalescing around his head before swiftly streaming upwards towards the face of the young woman. Her scarlet-dipped lips parted in a surprised 'oh' and she attempted to move back into her apartment, but she was too slow. Her quick intake of breath merely sped the process along, and before she could blink twice it was over. The young delivery man slowly crumpled at her feet._

_'Oh. It does so feel good to be _female_ again!' Slowly, she stroked her hands over her new body, feeling smooth skin and luscious curves. She pulled the silken kaftan tighter around herself, belting it snugly. Wiggling her toes in the fluffy bunny slippers that encased them, she looked down at her new body._

_'Oh! Oh, this will not do. Much too much colour. We don't want to draw attention, now, do we?' Saying this, she walked over to the small mirror that she could see hanging on the wall. How she saw it admidst all the clutter was a mystery, but see it she did. She vowed to clean everything up as soon as she was used to this new form. Thinking of where she would start, she gazed into the mirror and saw not herself, but an angelic reflection of the young woman whose body she had stolen._

_'It will be much easier if you don't fight, dear. Just relax, and let go.' The face in the mirror glared at her, a stubborn glint in her eye._

_'Yeah, I'll get right on that. You don't know who you're messing with, whatever the heck you are. I have friends, people who love me, and since I'm not telling you squat, they're going to know something's wrong when they see me acting all . . . not get ready to move on, sister.'_

_She looked surprised. This one had asked no questions, begged not for mercy. This one had accepted the fact that she had invaded her body, and was now preparing to fight. A futile battle, but the young woman didn't know that yet, and she would find out soon . . there were no boring questions for her to answer like she usually had to when she took a new host. And that surprised her._

_'You . . . have no questions?' The young woman rolled her eyes._

_'Of course not. Sure, I don't know exactly what you are, but you can't be anything nice. You must be something of supernatural origin, obviously. Not a demon, otherwise we wouldn't be conversing. Perhaps a wraith, or a spirit. Why do you look so surprised? My boyfriend's a sci-fi fiend, not unlike myself. And spend enough time around Reid, some facts and theories are bound to- ' Gasping, she quickly covered her mouth, but it was too late._

_She looked into the young woman's eyes, a feral smile touching her lips._

_'So you have a boyfriend, do you? And you clearly spend time with this Reid person, so that's one name I now know. Anything else you care to inform me about?'_

_The young woman slowly lowered her hands, the look of horror on her face clearing to show again that same stubborness that was most definitely at home there, before crossing her arms and glaring back at her._

_'I'm not saying anything else. So good luck navigating my life. Don't get used to it. You'll be gone soon.'_

_Poor, deluded young woman. Shaking her head, she laughed and turned from the mirror, wincing yet again at the chaos that the room was filled with. About to get started on transforming the place into something she could actually inhabit, she glanced towards the still ajar front door, and saw a slightly more pressing problem._

_'Ah,' she said, looking down at the corpse at her feet, 'Now, what are we going to do with you?'_

**A/N**

**Right, so I know that's a short start, but it does set the stage somewhat. I don't see this fic being too drastically long, but who knows! My characters sometimes get away from me. : ) Anyway, hope you enjoy it!**


	2. Chapter One: Intervention

_Disclaimer – Not mine. Unfortunately. *sighs*_

Chapter One: Intervention

_Three Days Earlier . . ._

'Aaaahupacha!'

Groaning, Garcia rubbed the back of her neck. She'd practically gotten whiplash from the force of that last sneeze. Still sniffling, she searched her bright, woven tote for her uber box of tissues, only to realise that they'd run out a good few popped blood vessels ago.

'Oh dis is ridicalus.'

Garcia got up slowly and ventured out of her little corner of the world on her fabulous stacked heels, which on second thought probably weren't the best choice of footwear on a day like today. Not that she was sick or anything, just that . . . well, you should always look after your joints. And precarious footwear really wasn't the way to do that. Yes. That was why. Joints. Not because she could hardly walk in a straight line barefoot at the moment, let alone in heels. It was for her joints. Absolutely.

Thinking this, Garcia meandered slowly towards JJ's office, hoping against hope that the agent would be there, despite the fact that they had all just finished a rough case and it was very, very late at night. Or very early in the morning, whichever way you wanted to look at it. This was the one time that Garcia wished paperwork on her friend. If it meant she'd be in her office, grand. Reaching the door she knocked lethargically. Because she didn't want to damage her knuckles on the wood. She needed her hands to work her magic! It wasn't because she was so completely and utterly drained of energy. No. Protection. Knuckles. Yes. That was it.

'JJ? Do you have eddy spare tissues? I'b all oud. JJ?' Receiving no reply, she pushed the door open. Finding the office empty, she groaned.

'Dis is so not by night. Day. Whadever.' She started heading down to where all the other desks were. 'Guys? Are you still here?' She sniffed mightily. She really needed to find some tissues, pronto.

'Garcia?' A hand touched her on the shoulder.

'Argh! JJ! Don' sneak ub on a girl like dat!' Putting a hand to her heart, Garcia turned to look at her friend in annoyance. The blonde woman had the decency to blush.

'Sorry, I though you heard me. Come on, we need you over this way.' She tugged on Garcia's richly patterned sleeve and started walking towards the conference room, hoping that Garcia would go along with this. The poor girl was as stubborn as a mule, refusing to admit she was sick because she didn't want to appear weaker than the rest of the team. Which was totally untrue, as being sick didn't make you weak. Although Morgan had been pretty darn amusing when he'd caught the dreaded bug. It'd been a few months before Garcia had joined the team, so she hadn't seen how pathetic he had been. JJ smiled to herself, determined to bring it up againat some point, if only to embarrass Morgan some more.

Finding herself at the door to the conference room, she turned to face Garcia, who had indeed followed after her. Nodding to herself, JJ opened the door and made her way to a seat on the other side of the round table.

Penelope stood in the doorway, greeted by a somewhat new sight. The entire team was sitting around the table, which was not unusual. What was different about it all was that there were no case files in front of them, no pictures of various victims up on the screen. They were all just looking. Intently. At her.

'Uh . . . ' Somewhat perturbed, Garcia came fully into the room, closing the door behind her. 'Can I he'p you guys wid somet'ing? You could've jus' called, you doe.' Sitting down in the only empty seat, she looked slowly around the room, puzzled as to why her friends, and her boss, would be in here if not for a case.

'Garcia.'

She turned to Hotch, who was looking at her with a serious expression on his face. Although when she thought about it, that wasn't exactly anything new or different either. She could count on one beringed hand how many times she'd seen their team leader smile. But this time seemed different.

_Maybe there's a real doozy of a case . . . but then why didn't they just call? I do all my best work in my temple of omniscient wonder. Hmmmm . . ._

'Uh, yes boss?'

'Go home.'

'Wha'? Why? What are you – are you guys ganging up od me? Is this an intervention?' Garcia sat up straight, rather put out by what her friends had just staged. 'Dis is crazy!'

'Penelope. Please.' Hotch exhaled loudly, then leant forward as if to try and emphasise his point. 'This case was a long one for everybody, but it's over now. I really think you need to go home and rest. You've been like this for over a week, and the long nights of the case didn't help. Take a few days and get better.'

'No! You guys have worked just as hard as me, and you're find. Dis is just a little sniffle. Really.' She sniffed. 'Speaking of, Embly, do you have eddy tissues? I'mb all oud.'

Emily winced, but dug into her pockets nothertheless, managing to come up with a crumpled napkin. She leant across the table and passed it to the still-sniffling techie.

'Garcia, this is just silly. You're sick. You are - '

'A genius of technological proportions, although in a very un-Reid like way.' She shot a smile towards the young agent, who smiled back. Emily frowned at the interruption, but carried on.

' - well, yes, that, but you must admit that you are not feeling like yourself right now.' Garcia finished with the napkin and stood up, making her way across the room to the trash. Pondering Emily's statement, she did have to admit that she wasn't feeling her usual fantastic self. Bending slightly at the waist to throw the napkin away, her head started throbbing with only the slightest change in equillibrium. Ug. Maybe Em had a point. She put a hand to her head.

'Well . . . no. Nod really.' Seeing everyone looking at her (again!) she quickly took her hand away from her forehead. 'But I can still help, it's not that bad. I'm find!'

'Baby girl.' Garcia groaned when she heard Derek's voice. What were they doing, tag teaming her? She was fine! Turning to face her boy, she glared at him.

'Whad.'

Derek wanted to laugh at the look on Penelope's face. He knew how much she hated taking time off work when the rest of them didn't, but enough was enough. She was ill, and he didn't want her to get any worse. Which is what would happen if she didn't get her gorgeous, stubborn butt out of the office and into bed. He got up and stretched a little, ignoring for the moment his internal clock which was screaming at him to get some sleep pronto. Now was not the time. He stepped over to where Penelope was standing next to the trash can, arms folded, stubborn gleam in her bloodshot eyes. Putting a hand on her shoulder, Derek attempted to get her to hear him.

'Penelope, when you put a 'd' on the end of 'fine', you're not 'fine'.'

Garcia humphed quietly to herself. The man had a point. Dammit.

'You're allowed to be sick. We won't see you as being weak just because winter has decided to bite you in the ass instead of us.'

'He's right, Garcia.' Reid stood, putting his hands in his pockets and taking a step towards where Penelope and Morgan were standing. 'Studies have shown that people who are in tight knit groups such as our own often feel the need to justify what they're feeling when they are sick due to - '

_Great, now Reid. Lord knows I love that boy to distraction, but sometimes . . . _

'Reid.' She interrupted him before he could really get going. He stopped mid-sentence, and looked at her. 'Sweedie, I love you like a brudder. But if you even attembt to make a speech of eddy kind, let alone a 'tatistical one, I kid you dot, I _will_ aim my next sneeze in your d'rection.'

Everyone laughed at the horrified look on Reid's face as he backed quickly away and sat down, the mood in the whole room lightening. Morgan put his arm around her and gave her a hug. Garcia smiled slightly, thinking how nice it was for this place to see something other than the death it was constantly confronted with. Snuggling into Derek's side, doing her best not to get various fluids all over his favourite leather jacket, Penelope sighed.

It was time to face facts.

She was sick.

And she did not appreciate it.

* * *

Two hours later, Garcia was sitting up in bed, rugged up to the nines, three fresh boxes of tissues sitting on her bedside table next to a bottle of water and the box of cold meds that Derek had _insisted _she pick up from the chemist, and a steaming mug of hot chocolate in her hands, a mug that had been laced liberally with brandy. For health reasons. Really. She took another slurp.

Having finally admitted that she was indeed sick (if only to get the others to _be quiet_)_,_ the rest of the team had told Garcia that Morgan had volunteered to take her home. Garcia had at first been very vocal about Derek not being anywhere near her while she was like this, but he had insisted. And insisted. And insisted. And had then taken her following silence for aquiescence. Which was really not fair, considering that she had tried to tell him to bugger off (politely) yet again, but was unable to do so, what with the whole almost-total-loss-of-her-voice thing.

So here Garcia was, forced into bed by one really annoying, but fantastically delectable, Derek Morgan, looking forward to passing out and sleeping off the headache that had been persisting for what felt like forever. All in all, things weren't too bad, though. Sure, she felt like hell, and couldn't even summon up the energy to hack into, well, anything, but, as she sipped the last of her cocoa-laced brandy, allowing the warmth to seep through her, she did have a rather great view. Derek was bending over to pick up . . . something. She didn't care what it was, she just thanked whatever Deity was around that whatever her boy was looking for was on the floor and not on, say, a high shelf. Although that view could also be interesting. If it were high enough, his shirt would lift up a little, and she could admire the most excellent back that he had . . .

Daydreaming happily, she was brought crashing back to reality when she leant too far over and slipped out of bed, dropping her thankfully now empty mug onto the floor with a clatter as she fell, and landing with a rather ungraceful thump.

'Penelope! What the hell - !'

Garcia waved weakly from the floor. 'And de Russians give her a four poin' eigh'. But den, dey always were harsh bas-' Derek cut her off by scooping her up and plopping her back into bed.

'Baby girl, I don't like hearing you use that language, you know that.' He pulled the covers up around her, pointedly ignoring the pout she directed his way. Noticing the dropped mug had rolled to the floor near the foot of the bed, he turned and bent to pick it up. Derek heard a deep sigh from behind him, and spun around in time to see Garcia slowly tilting off the bed again.

'Gah! Woman!' Catching her just before she hit the floor for the second time that night, Derek couldn't help but smile. Penelope may have been sick and higher than a kite from the cold meds, but it would be a cold day in hell when anything made her lose her sense of humour. Then he grimaced, remembering some of the more brutal cases they had dealt with, and the things Penelope had to see so that she could help them. All things took their toll, it was true, but he was grateful that she could still smile, still laugh, still joke. So many lost their way when they were in a job like this for too long. He hoped that she would never get so burned that she lost her spark. Pushing those thoughts away, Derek looked down at the somewhat flustered woman sitting up in bed.

'Gorgeous, if you weren't sounding like a cross between someone who'd smoked forty a day for twenty years and a very unhealthy duck, I'd swear that you were in perfect health.' He grinned when the slightly dazed look that had been on her face changed as she rolled her eyes.

'I'b not _dat_ sick, Derek. I'b still breadin'! Sort of.' _Sssnnrrk. _'Heh. I tink you were ride aboud de duck. I really do soun' silly.' Scooching deeper under the comforter, Garcia felt her eyes start to droop closed. However they snapped right open again when she saw Derek pull a chair from the dining area, take off his holster, place it on the dresser where he could still reach it, and settle into the chair, resting his head against the wall as he did so.

'Whad – whad are you doing?' she spluttered. Derek opened one eye and peered at her.

'I'm sitting down to rest my eyes. I'm not leavin', baby girl, you need someone to make sure you take it easy. I know you, you'll be up and on your computer far too soon.'

Garcia spluttered some more. 'That's as may be, but Derek, as much as I love you, and love having you around, de longer you stay around me, de more likely you are to ged sick as well. And I'mb a big girl, I can look afder myself. So thank you. But you need to go hobe and get some sleep. In your own bed.' She reached out and he leant forward to grab her hand. She gave it a squeeze, smiling inwardly at the look of resignation on his face. Garcia knew that he would stay, and she was truly grateful to have a friend like Derek in her life. But him staying to look after her when she was just going to be konked out on meds was silly.

'Besides, habing somebody watching me sleep all nide kinda creebs me oud a liddle bit.' She grinned at him, trying to stay focused as the meds she had already taken tried their damndest to fly her off to sleepbyes.

Morgan laughed, squeezing her hand a little tighter before letting go. Standing up, he reached down and returned his holster to its usual place, looking down at Garcia when he finished. He smiled fondly, seeing that she was almost completely out of it, sitting up and struggling to keep her eyes open so that she could send him home to get a good night's rest.

'Ok baby girl, I'll go. I'll swing by in the afternoon to see how you're doing, though. And both JJ and Emily said they'd come by sometime to see how you were doing. Call me if you need anything.' He bent down to give her a hug goodbye, but a small yet rather forceful hand to his chest stopped him.

'Hey! No closer, you'll ged sick!' Derek stopped, then moved her hand away and finished his hug.

'I'm willing to risk it. Besides, if I do get sick, _you'll_ have to nurse _me_.' He grinned. 'And wouldn't that be fun?' Before she could stop him, or even come up with a witty retort, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek and headed out.

_I really hope he doesn't get sick. I've heard the stories from last time, and there's no way I'm going to be around if _that_ happens again, no sir!_

'Seriously, Penelope, call me. And get some rest! I mean it.' He closed the front door quietly behind him, and was gone.

Garcia blinked dazedly, an obscure movie line popping into her head at Morgan's goodbye.

_Anybody want a peanut?_

Slowly she sank back down into her pillows, and using the very last vestiges of energy to pull the covers around her ears, she let sleep overtake her. She was looking forward to a very, very long nap. The last thing she saw before sleep overcame her were bunnies holding steaming mugs of hot chocolate whilst dancing in a conga line, balancing giant peanuts on their heads.

_I really hope they're part of a dream._

**A/N:**

**Firstly, thank you so much to the people who reviewed, I really appreciated it! Y'all get a cookie! : ) Also, to everyone who has added the story to their story alerts or favourites, I'm really honoured. Thank you all so much! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the first. It's longer, which I hope is a good thing. Writing Garcia's sick-speak was rather interesting, I gotta say. : ) I'm not sure when the next update will be, as I haven't written any of it yet. This one was done partly with the prologue, hence why I could update so soon. Not so much with the next chapter. However, to keep you going, the brothers Winchester will be appearing shortly! Until then, sayonara!**

**Emrisah**


	3. Chapter Two: The Brothers Winchester

_Disclaimer: Nope, nothing, nada. I'm simply playing in the sandbox of various genuises. Geniuii? Agh, you get the point._

_

* * *

_

Chapter Two: The Brothers Winchester

* * *

'Dean.' Sam didn't take his eyes off the screen in front of him, continuing to scroll through the numerous pages of reports that he had . . . commandeered.

'Mmrg.'

'Dean!'

'Mmmph.'

'C'mon man, seriously, wake up. I think I've found a job.' Dean groaned, and chucked a pillow in the general direction of Sam's head. It missed, but the intent was there.

'Sammy, it is some disgustingly early hour in the morning. Please tell me why you're already up. And without any coffee to boot.' Slowly, Dean pushed himself up and sat on the side of the bed, rubbing a hand through his short hair and yawning hugely. This whole early morning thing was getting . . . early. Er.

'Dean, it's five in the afternoon. How can this ever be construed as early?'

'Sammy, we were up til dawn in that creepy house with that chick who had serious sunlight issues. Not to mention dealing with the fallout after . . . ' Dean trailed off, the memory still too fresh. While he knew intellectually that they couldn't save everyone, it still pissed him off when good people died for no reason.

Sam finally looked up from the screen, his eyes concerned. 'Dean . . . '

Standing abruptly, Dean leaned down and grabbed a change of clothes from his open duffel at the end of his bed.

'Yeah, whatever. I need a shower. Five minutes.'

'This is important, I really think your shower can wait.'

'Sammy, since when have you become so lax about personal hygiene?' Dean started walking towards the bathroom, only to turn back when he realised he'd forgotten something. Sam rolled his eyes before looking once more at the reports in front of him.

'That's the third shower in less than twelve hours, Dean, and each one has been longer than the last. The first one I can understand, the second one was a bit over the top, but this is a bit excessive.'

Still rummaging in his duffel, Dean looked up at his brother. 'The first was necessary because there was no way I was goin' to sleep without one after a hunt like that, the second was because some idiot spilled his drink on me at the diner just as we were leaving, and this one is because, well, I just like being minty fresh. Ah ha!' Grinning like a school boy, Dean held up his razor. 'Knew this was here somewhere. Right, see ya Sammy.' Ready once more, Dean walked passed their beds on the way to the bathroom. Sam grinned, the reason for his brother's constant showering now suddenly clear.

'It's because these ones are so similar to the steam ones you like so much, isn't it?'

This time, the pillow didn't miss.

* * *

Dean stood under the shower head, the strong pressure of the water hitting him perfectly right between the shoulder blades. For once, the motel they were in had decent showers. Hot-to-the-point-of-scalding water, excellent pressure, and a shower head high enough so that he didn't have to crouch.

Bliss.

Turning his face to the spray, he felt the water hit him in sheets, sluicing over his head, massaging his scalp before taking the foam of his shampoo down the drain. He hoped whatever case Sammy seemed so uptight about was something normal. Well, normal for them anyway. The world was burning, but there was nothing they could do about it. At least not at the moment. So a good ol', regular hunt would be a welcome change, a break from the funky angel crap. With what happened to him in Rock Ridge, what he saw even after they smoked the ghost's ass . . .

Shaking his head vigorously to dispel the feeling in his gut, he turned so the water could pound onto his back. While the shower in this place was a step shy of nirvana, the beds left a lot to be desired. His back was one massive ache, but the heat and pressure were working wonders to improve it.

The sound of the water in his ears, Dean only vaguely heard the thumps on the bathroom door. Ignoring the noise, he twisted the water handle all the way round to hot and pointedly stood under the water for another minute before reluctantly turning it off and stepping out. Reality could only be put off for so long. Dean figured it was probably time to get to work.

* * *

'Right, Sammy, what is it that has your panties in a twist?' Buttoning up his shirt, Dean came out of the bathroom in a wave of steam.

'Ha ha, very funny. Come look at this.' Turning to his laptop, Sam started bringing up newspaper reports, then police files. 'I think we have a case in Virginia.'

Walking over to where Sam was sitting, Dean braced one hand on the back of the chair, the other on the desk, and leaned over his shoulder. He flicked his eyes over the various reports. 'I dunno, Sammy . . .'

'Okay, I know. At first I thought it wasn't anything either, but then I read these.' Scrolling through the police and ME reports, Sam highlighted various lines. 'I had a feeling this was our kind of deal.'

''All the wounds appear to be self-inflicted?'' Dean looked incredulously at Sam. 'You're tellin' me that these seemingly sane people went and stabbed themselves in the heart with a hunting knife _without_ being under the influence?'

'That's what I'm saying. All tox screens came back negative, except for the third victim, a Rose North. Her blood alcohol level was way high, and she tested positive for heroin.' Leaning back in his chair, Sam turned to look at his brother. Dean was now sitting on the edge of the bed, hands held loosely between his knees, a questioning look on his face. Turning from his laptop, Sam leaned towards him. 'But Dean, even strung out and drunk off her ass, I don't think she or anyone would have done something like this.'

'Well I dunno Sammy, there are some crazy people out there.'

'Dean.'

'Yeah, yeah, I know.' Sighing in frustration, Dean rubbed his hand briskly over his head. 'So. What else do you have, college boy?'

Choosing to ignore the last statement, Sam looked back at the screen. 'Well, there's no federal case as yet because it really does look like suicide in every case. The ME has determined without a doubt that each victim stabbed themselves in the heart with a eight-inch, non-serrated hunting knife. They just have no idea why four people would kill themselves in the exact same way within a four day period.'

'So, what are we thinking? Spirit, wraith, demon, what?'

Sam leaned back, brows furrowed, still tapping keys every now and then. 'I don't know, Dean. Demons wouldn't kill their hosts, they need them to survive up here. Spirits don't generally possess humans, let alone possess them only to kill them with a knife in less than a day, and wraiths don't possess people full stop. Scare the crap out of them, sure, but possession isn't their usual gig. I'll do more research, but honestly, I have no clue what we're dealing with.'

Falling back on the bed, Dean threw his arm across his face. 'Great. We have a bunch of dead guys - '

'And girls.'

'- and girls, we know that there's clearly something supernatural going on as their deaths are all sorts of hinky, and even though we seem to have all the medical, criminal and literary reports on them and their deaths, we still have no clue as to what could possibly have been messing with their lives. Super.'

'There's isn't even any relation or link between the victims.'

Dean sat up, eyebrows raised. 'Nothing?'

Sam shook his head. 'Nope, none that I can see. The first was a businessman, next was a society wife, then a store clerk followed by a student.'

Dean looked at him, a frown on his face. 'From businessman to waitress? Now that's weird. Whatever it is, it's going down the food chain. You'd think that something that hopped from body to body would be doing it to upgrade, not downsize.'

There was a brief pause after Dean's statement, then Sam sat up abruptly, suddenly focused on the screen once more.

'That's it!' He started typing furiously, fingers flying over the keys.

'That's . . . what, exactly?' Dean stood up and joined him at the table, taking the seat opposite Sam and grabbing a few leftover fries from their takeout meal of the night before.

'I remembered something a friend of mine from college told me. It sounds similar to what's going on in Virginia, except it happened all the way over in San Fransisco, so why . . . ' Muttering to himself, Sam continued to click rapidly through Internet pages, clearly looking for something in particular. Dean watched him for a minute or two, before picking up the last french fry and throwing it at him.

'Dude!' Grabbing a somewhat clean napkin, Sam shot his brother a look as he wiped the grease off his forehead.

'Well, you trailed off in the middle of a sentence, and you had that look on your face that meant you wouldn't be surfacing for another few hours at least, so I thought this would be more interesting.' Grinning at the annoyed look on Sam's face, Dean leaned back and crossed his arms. 'So, what happened in San Fransisco?'

Glaring at his brother, Sam decided it was probably a good idea to tell him what he thought was going on, even though some things still weren't adding up.

'Okay, he's the thing. About nine or ten years ago, a friend of mine's sister, Cara, was at college in San Francisco. She'd do the usual college stuff, and at night would often go out to this popular club, P3. Well, I remember him telling me that one time when Cara came home, she told him this weird story about something that had happened one night at the club. He was still young at the time, but telling me about it then, he clearly thought that she had been drunk, or simply imagining things.'

'The point, Sammy.'

'Right. Well, apparently one night at the club, his sister and some friends couldn't get in because there was a private function on, a reunion or something. However Cara had to, uh, use the facilities rather badly, so they tried to sneak in a back way. They were just about to go down the back alley when they heard some kind of ruckus. They were slightly buzzed, but not far enough gone that they were going to go charging down a dark alley that had weird noises coming out of it. Unlike _some _people . . . '

'Sam . . . '

'It's a valid point, Dean. Remember Gordon?' Dean rolled his eyes.

'Aw come on, let that go!'

'It was stupid, Dean!'

Dean raised an eyebrow. 'Do we really want to start talking about the stupid crap we've done? 'Cause I know I've racked up a pretty big total, but you and the whole Ruby thing . . . ' Sam leaned back in his chair, his jaw tensing.

'Can we not get into that again?

Dean huffed out a short breath. 'Whatever. Just get to the _point_, Sam.'

'Fine. The _point_ is, Cara swears she and her friends saw some random guy stab himself in the chest in front of this woman in a suit who was standing in front of him. The woman freaked out, naturally, but as soon as he died, this weird vapour came out of him and went into her. She stopped yelling, and seemed to completely change her attitude, getting up and covering him with a piece of tarp, like she dealt with bodies every day.

'Cara and the others thought that it would be a good time to haul ass right about then, so they did. None of them talked about it again. I think they were all too freaked out by what they saw. They don't deal with stuff like that every day like we do, so most likely they pushed it to the back of their minds, saying they couldn't possibly have seen what they did, so they made it into a story, something that never really happened, you know, like - '

' - regular people do. Yeah, I know. It does sound like our kind of thing, but face it, Sammy, this happened practically a decade ago. What, if anything, connects it to the case in Virginia?

'Well, the body-swapping, for one thing. And for another, I can't seem to find one report of the body being found. In fact, a lot of weird stuff happened in San Francisco for a number of years, but there's seems to be hardly any official reports on the matter. Or if there were, they were covered up really well. There was one FBI file, but it's closed, and even I can't get into it.' Sam sighed, his inability to hack into an FBI file obviously annoying him.

'So the question is, why would they cover something like that up? And what has been going on in San Francisco for all those years?'

Dean sighed, then shaking his head as if to wake up a bit more, he got up and started packing their stuff into duffel bags. 'Well, whatever happened then is not our concern, Sammy. What's happening to these people in Virginia is. While I think the connection between what's happening there and what happened all those years ago is weak, there's no doubt that Virginia is our kind of gig. We need to get going now, you can keep researching as we go.'

Sam nodded his assent and closed his laptop, putting it away in its case before going to his bed and packing his own stuff. Dean had most everything else sorted, so he left to go and sign away some of Franklin Mosse's credit. Sam carried on packing, and with the majority of the weapons already back in the Impala's trunk, there wasn't really much left to do. Within five minutes they were both done and ready to go.

Meeting at the Impala, they slid into the leather seats. Dean started her up and she came to life with a roar before settling into a deep purr. As he reversed out of the parking lot, Sam brought out his laptop once more. Dean shook his head, wondering how his little brother could look up and read stuff whilst in a moving car. Even the thought of it made him want to hurl.

'Dean, it's a two day drive, we'll have to stop somewhere before too long. Even with your driving I doubt we'll get there any earlier than really late Thursday night.' Dean said nothing, simply pressing his foot more firmly to the accelerator.

'We'll make it sooner.'

Sam nodded, his shoulders tensing up slightly. He knew why Dean was rushing, why he wanted to make a two day drive in less. Because four people had died in four days, which meant that another one was due in the next few hours.

And there was nothing they could do to prevent that.

* * *

**A/N: I am SO sorry that this has taken so long! Things have been really urgh-worthy over here, hence the delays. For that I really, truly apologise. I promise that the next chapter will be up a LOT sooner than this one was. Really. *nods* Special thanks to Dess for all the encouragement, and Missy for the words of awesome. It means so much!**

**Also, I'm a bit worried about this chapter, especially the ending . . . hmmmmm. I would keep it for a few more days and try and sort it out properly, but I think you guys deserve an update. So just tell me what you think.**

**On another note, thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has reviewed/alerted/favourited. It means the world to me to know that people are reading this story and liking it, so THANK YOU!**

**Remember, reviews=happy author=author wanting to write more. : D**


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